


Father, oh Father

by TheRealSokka



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Give me that escort mission dammit!, Kind of a fix-it, little bit of the Gascoigne family but mostly the daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 21:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealSokka/pseuds/TheRealSokka
Summary: Not long after losing her father and mother, a little girl climbs out into the long night of Yharnam. Clutching a brilliant red brooch. Her feet make nary a sound as she sneaks past the monsters - father would be proud.Basically a 'happy ending', quote-un-quote, where the Hunter and the little girl meet one more time. Also Eileen, because she's amazing.





	Father, oh Father

* * *

Beyond the curtains, the outside was dimming. The shadows were growing longer in Yharnam, just as the bells tolled to mark the beginning of the night. From her window, the little girl watched the sun sink below a rooftop. She knew the dark shouldn’t scare her. The house was warm and she had a candle already waiting to be lit. Yet for some reason, her father was uneasy, and it rubbed off on her. He was pacing again, something he hadn’t done in a long while. “It will be dark soon.” he kept muttering.

“Dad, it’s only another night.” she tried to calm him.

“This is different. This is worse. It’s too soon.” He spoke almost as if she weren’t in the room. The next sentence was nearly inaudible: “Maybe it was a mistake to come here.”

She had never seen him this downcast. “Dad, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Gascoigne blinked and looked at her as if just realizing she was there. “Oh. It’s nothing, Ciara, don’t mind me. I must have grown frightful recently.” He smiled his half-smile: “Why don’t you get your sister? I haven’t seen her all day.”

“She doesn’t want to come. She says its bad luck wishing farewell.” Ciara decided not to mention the nightmare that had kept both of them awake; the reason for her sister’s refusal to go near father. It had only been dream, after all. “She’s just stupid. I’ve farewelled you every time, and you’ve always come back, haven’t you?”

A shadow seemed to cast over father’s face. Maybe he had sensed something of what she was not telling him. When he spoke again, his voice was changed: “Your sister is afraid, Ciara, and I won’t lie to you; she is quite right to. You are too young to remember the first time I couldn't come home.”

“I’m not.” she protested. “I remember you came back then as well; you just took a little longer. And you are going to beat the monsters now, too. I know you will.” Her sister’s words came to mind: “But if you find a monster that is bigger than you, you’ll run, won’t you? Or climb a building; they can’t climb, can they?”

He sighed: “I wish it were that easy.”

“You had better listen to your daughter; she has more sense than you.”

Unnoticed by either of them, mother had entered the room. In contrast to Gascoigne, she was dressed all in red, with a matching ruby brooch. Ciara wondered whether she would ever be as beautiful as her: even in the gloom, Viola looked radiant. Her frown was nothing to smile at, though: “I don’t want you taking any foolish risks, either of you. The Church isn’t worth sacrificing your lives for.”

Gascoigne chuckled: “They would disagree, dear.”

His wife ignored him: “Stick to your child’s wisdom: if its bigger or faster or more aggressive than you, then you get more hunters or you run until it loses interest; that’s what you’d do if you were a smart man.” She stopped and took a deep breath: “Just…watch out for each other out there.”

Gascoigne smiled, and this time it was genuine. “As long as I have you, my ladies, I think I am the one the beasts have to watch out for. I am much bigger than them then.”

Ciara frowned: “But we’re not with you when you’re out there.” she said.

Father leant down and picked her up, as easy as if she were a candle. “That’s where you’re wrong, little one. I always carry you with me. In here.” He tapped his head lightly.

She giggled: “That must be very heavy.”

Father laughed. Mother, though, had both hands on her hips: “Be very careful how you answer that now, dear.”

Gascoigne was spared a reply by a knock on the door. After a few seconds, the knocking was repeated. Father sighed and sat her back down. “That’ll be him. I have to go.” He looked at Ciara: “You’ll be good while I’m gone, will you? And take care of your sister.”

“Pff. I always do; ask mother.”

He knelt down and gave her a kiss, before kissing mother as well. “Don’t open the door to anyone except Henryk and me, do you understand? If frightened neighbours knock to be let in, don’t open. Not even to other hunters. The entire city has gone mad.” Just then, a strange howl echoed through the street and made all of them jump. Gascoigne’s face was grim when he turned to them again: “My ladies. You take good care of each other.”

Instead of a reply, mother took out her music box and wound it up. As the little tune began, father smiled again and touched the rim of his hat in farewell. When he opened the door, a cloaked man was already waiting outside. Even from a distance, he smelled of the hunt. Father went to him: “Henryk.”

“You took your time. They’ve already closed off the bridge.”

“Let’s be on our way then.”

Ciara waived after them before the door closed. Mother locked it tight.

:::::::::::::::::::

The metal was cold on her bare feet, but she did not dare go back for her shoes. It wasn’t safe. The pale moon shone its bright light onto the girl’s small figure as she climbed down, rung by rung, always afraid to slip. In one hand, she clutched a little brooch, its red ruby reflecting the moonlight. Finally, her feet touched the slick cobblestones and she froze in place to listen for snarls or barks or growls, but the lower levels responded only with silence. Carefully she crossed the street. Even from the laughing people behind their barred door came no sound this night. For just a second, she thought she ought to knock, ask if they were alright, as mother always said to do. The second passed without her moving, and then she quickly ran back across the street, to the next ladder. Down and down. Down to where they didn’t close off the bridges.

There was scarcely a splash when she jumped down into the water, and the monsters at the bottom of the sewer never stirred as she crept past on quiet feet. She was a shadow in the moonlight. Father would be proud, she thought. Mother would tell her not to go barefoot, lest she catch a cold. But that was stupid. A cold was nothing compared to the things that would happen if she made a sound. And in the ward they could cure everything. She only had to get there first.

She didn’t know the way- her parents would have never allowed her to enter the sewers- but she knew the right direction. From time to time, the domes of the Ward’s churches appeared over the rim of the canal, guiding her like a beacon. Still no beasts noticed her. She thought it couldn’t be much further, before she saw that the canal ahead flowed into tunnel, so dark that she couldn’t see its end. She took a small step back. Anything could be in there, and it was unlikely to be kind. But right behind the tunnel rose the walls of the Cathedral Ward, almost close enough to touch. Ciara looked around the sewer: there were no ladders, no side passages; just the dark tunnel looming ahead. The only way forward.

Her hands balled into fists. The Ward was on the other side; father was on the other side. If he still was father. She only had to walk through the tunnel. Only little children were afraid of the dark. In the dark, she wouldn’t see the monsters, but maybe the monsters couldn’t see her either. Just take the first step…

Without warning, she sneezed. Horrified, she covered her mouth. _I can’t make a sound_. But she had, and there was no telling what heard her. When she stared into the tunnel, she saw something moving in the dark. There was a sniff and a grunt. She went absolutely still. Some creatures couldn’t see you if you just didn’t move, father had told them once.

And then she was suddenly bathed in light. The treacherous moon had shoved away a cloud and turned its eye on the little girl in the sewers. The shadow saw her, too. It screamed, spittle flying from its mouth.

Ciara was petrified. She couldn’t run back to the ladder, not with all the things that were waiting back there, and she couldn’t climb. The ground shook as the shadow charged. She would die here, a horrified thought crept into her head. Again she thought of father. “I’m bigger than you!” she whispered frantically. Against all reason, she began to run down the tunnel, waving her arms and screaming as loudly as she could. Her moonlight shadow ran ahead, long hands reaching for the ceiling.

The thing screeched to a halt. She thought she could see a giant pig snout sniffing the air uncertainly for a moment. She had scared it, and for a moment she felt like a hunter, like her father. But the moment passed, and then she was just a little barefoot girl before a monster, and the monster knew it. Its scream echoed in the tunnel and hit her with drops of spittle, as its hoof scraped at the ground furiously. The girl squeezed her eyes shut and waited. There was nothing else she could do. Maybe she would see mother again, was her last thought before the monster charged again.

But the attack never came. The monster’s scream turned into a surprised squeal. And then into another sound, louder and almost pitiful. Ciara had heard dying before, and she recognized it now. When dared to open her eyes, the giant pig was almost gone, its body flaking into ashes as she watched. She stood frozen to the spot. Why was she alive?

“Mad. You must be completely mad, little wun.” said a voice. There was movement in the tunnel, and then a tall crow stepped out of the darkness- only she wasn’t a bird; she was a woman, dressed all in black feathers. Some of them had turned red where she was wiping a shining small knife of the pig’s blood. She had the familiar smell about her.

Ciara understood: the woman was a hunter. But father had warned her not to trust anyone, not even other hunters. She kept her distance: “I’m not mad.”

“That’s what the mad wuns always say.” She sounded almost amused. “What are you doing down here, little mad wun?”

The woman had a funny way of talking. Ciara glanced past her into the tunnel: it looked clear; maybe she could run. “I was just going. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“Good thing I’m not a stranger, then.” another voice spoke up. Until the second hunter appeared behind the crow-woman, she hadn’t even noticed his presence. Only his eyes were visible between his hat and scarf, but they looked at her with recognition. And she recognized him, too.

“Mr. Hunter!”

“Hello.” He sounded a lot older than before, but his voice was still kind; one of the few kind voices she had heard since mother and father had left. His eyes fell on the red brooch that she had still clutched in her hand, and back to her face, looking at her strangely.

The Crow crossed her arms: “An acquaintance of yurs, I take it?”

“Gascoine’s.” he replied quietly.

“Curses. That’s right; the old fool settled here didn’t he?” The woman knelt down: “Do you know your way home, little wun?”

Ciara nodded hesitantly. If the woman was with the friendly hunter, she would trust her, she decided. “Yes, Mrs Hunter.”

There was a short pause. “But you don’t wunna go back there, do ya?”

She shook her head: “No, Mrs Hunter.”

“Call me Eileen, please.” The woman rose to her feet. “In that case, there is one place we can take you, isn’t there?” she said to the hunter.

“Indeed.” He beckoned Ciara forward: “We can take you to a safe place. You have nothing to fear from us.”

“I’m not afraid.” In that moment, it was true.

“Well, come on then.” Without further delay or apparent effort, the huntress lifted the little girl onto her shoulder and started back down the tunnel.

“I can walk.” Ciara protested.

“And I can walk faster, as can the beasts. Best take what is offered.”

Ciara looked over the woman’s shoulder at the hunter, who brought up the rear. He shrugged: “Don’t argue with her; trust me, it’s pointless. And she’s right; there are an awful lot of beasts down here.”

It felt unbelievably good to hear friendly voices and have friendly faces around her again. Just now that the fear was gone did she realize how scared she had been. “The monsters couldn’t see me, I snuck past all of them.” she said proudly. She shivered: “Almost all of them.”

“Obviously.” the Crow said dryly.

The tunnel was not as endless as it appeared. After only a minute, they reached a patch of light, and another ladder. The Crow lowered her to the floor and turned to the hunter. “Ya take care of her; I’ll clear the bridge.” she said, already on her way up. Ciara watched her climb two rungs at a time. There was something unsettling in the way the woman moved, not making a single sound. It reminded her more of a cat than a bird; a deadly silent cat on her way to an unsuspecting mouse.

The friendly hunter was keeping a careful eye on the tunnel, still as a statue. Like the Crow, he appeared calm on the outside, but his calm was soothing; not like he would pounce at any moment. Even the blackness all around them suddenly didn’t seem that scary anymore.  “Thank you for saving me.” Ciara started.

The hunter shook his head: “Best thank Eileen; she was a lot faster than me back there. I know she can be a little intimidating, but she’s got a good heart under all those feathers.”

“I will, Mr Hunter.”

She thought she could hear him chuckle: “’Mr. Hunter’. You know, you are by far the most polite person I’ve met in this city. Would it be alright if you told me your name?”

She only hesitated briefly: “Ciara.”

“A nice name, Ciara.” He paused: “While we wait, I think you should have this back.” The hunter reached into his pocket and took out a small device. Ciara recognized it immediately. It was burned into her memory. When her fist closed around it, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hold it or throw it away.

Her hands were shaking when she started to wind up the music box. The quiet melody sounded out of place down here in the dark sewer, and she quickly closed it again. Once more she clutched her mother’s brooch tightly. Maybe it gave her the strength to finally ask: “What happened to Father?”

He turned away and didn’t answer. His eyes were hidden from her. Finally he said: “I’m sorry. Your father died fighting the beasts. I found him too late.”

Ciara nodded numbly. She supposed she must have known already. She wanted to weep, but there were no tears left in her. “Did he- did he remember us?”

What little she could see of the hunter’s face looked pained. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

Someone whistled above them. The hunter looked up: “Time to go.” Yet he didn’t move himself. He reached out with a bloodstained glove and squeezed her shaking hand. “Come on.” was all he said.

Eileen was waiting for them at the top, once again cleaning her knife. Ciara didn’t protest this time when the hunter lifted her onto his shoulder. They passed the remains of several half-human figures as they crossed the moonlit bridge into Cathedral Ward. Ciara felt very visible, but she knew she was safe while the two hunters were with her. Even while they were talking, they were alert to any suspicious noise or movement. Ciara wondered whether father was like this- had been, she corrected herself bitterly- when he left the house.

“I’m beginning to understand why I find ya taking this sewer path so frequently.” Eileen was saying to the hunter.

He cleared his throat: “I told you; I don’t trust the elevator. I almost got trapped in one recently.”

“Yes, very tricky things indeed. And the fact that no sane Yharnamite uses them with all the beasts around and instead tries those same sewers has nothing to do with it, I’m guessing?”

The hunter threw her a sideways glance: “Maybe it does. So what? It doesn’t matter; you’ve got your hunt, I’ve got mine.”

“Rubbish. You know well enough, I don’t mind helping out a companion with his task. I admire your compassion, truly. Just watch your step.”

“Thanks for the advice.” he said dryly. “What would I do without you?”

“What indeed?” She remained silent for a few steps. “I’ve found interesting signs around the Ward recently. I think my hoont has come to me.”

The hunter pushed open a door. “Will you ever tell me who you are hunting?”

“Wouldn’t help ya, so probably not. In any case, I can see ya’re far too busy to worry about that.” It was the first time Ciara heard Eileen chuckle: “That old dweller’s filled yar head with lice. Ya can’t bring the whole town into that chapel.”

“I can try.” he said, so quietly that Ciara was sure she was the only one who heard.

She hadn’t understood everything they were talking about, but she did understand that her rescue had been no coincidence. “You are saving people.” she said. She wondered whether her father had been saving people, too; he had never talked about it. Somehow she thought he had.

The hunter looked at her: “Does that surprise you?”

“No.” she answered truthfully. “Until now I only thought hunters were more hunting beasts, is all.”

The hunter didn’t answer. Eileen replied in his stead: “The more people are save in here, the fewer monsters there are to kill, is his reasoning. Hard to argue with that logic. Although I still think we should just burn this entire heap down and have done. Much less effort and much less senseless hope.” she said pointedly.

The hunter huffed: “We’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.”

They had reached a pair of engraved wooden doors. Eileen pushed them open and they stepped into a cavernous cathedral. Ciara had to cough from the incense that hung in the air. Once her eyes had adjusted to the smoke, she saw that there were people sitting in the corners, some eying them curiously, others praying, reading, sleeping. Ciara was relieved to see they all looked human. That was until something she had taken for a pile of clothes stirred right next to them amidst the candles.

“Good day to you.” the hunter said formally.

“Ah, yes, hunter.” the pile replied. It became a hunched old man with a high, thin voice. His features were slumped like candle wax and there was no telling where his skin ended and the clothes began. More than anything, he looked miserable. But when he saw her, he visibly brightened up: “Aha, a newcomer! Please, sit down, sit down, make yourself at home. And pray; pray for all of us that this night is over soon.”

The hunter lowered her down: “Ciara, this is the dweller. He is offering this church as shelter, and you can trust him that it is likely the safest place left in Yharnam.”

Ciara gave a little curtsy: “Thank you, Mr Dweller. You are kind to take me in.”

“Oh, no need to thank, no need, little girl. It’s the least bit I can do. Well, it’s the only thing I can do.” He addressed the hunter: “It is a miracle, a true miracle what you are doing! I had all but given up hope there were still sane folk about. And yet here you are, once again, hihi. This night might just end before we all go mad.”

“For ya it’s already too late, mate.” Eileen commented, waving away incense. “Well, I’ve dallied long enough; I must be on my way.”

“I’ll be with you in a moment.” the hunter called after her. He turned to Ciara: “Like the old man said; make yourself at home- as far as that’s possible. Don’t leave the building. Oh, and best don’t sit next to the old woman over there. She can be a bit grumpy. And best avoid that black-robed one, too. I think she might be a vampire.”

To her surprise, Ciara heard herself laughing for the first time in days: “Really?”

She thought she could see small laughter-lines around his eyes, but maybe that was just the light: “No, not really; I suppose she is nice enough. Actually, a little talk might do her good, now I think about it. Why don’t you go to her, cheer her up a little?”

“I will, Mr Hunter!”

“Good. I will probably be around again sometime, though I can’t speak for Eileen.” He turned to follow after the huntress.

“Mr. Hunter?”

He stopped and looked back at her: “Yes?”

“If it isn’t trouble-like, could the dweller take in my sister, too?”

That took him by surprise: “Your sister?”

“Yes. She said she was going to check on a friend, but she hasn’t come back. When she does, she shouldn’t worry about me. There’s a note on the table saying where I was going, and, well, if she wants to come too…”

 _Surprises everywhere_. _How much longer will this work?_ He shook his head: “Maybe I’m really mad. Well, I will look around the street for her. But you understand I can’t make any promises.” With that, he turned to leave. He didn’t want to give her false hope. That would be cruel in this city. But the gods knew he didn’t wish another loss on the girl.

The hunter stepped out into Yharnam once more. He found, somewhat to his surprise, that Eileen was really still waiting. A howl carried through the air. _Well. Back to the hunt._ He wondered how much longer this night could last.

“Mr. Hunter!”

He couldn’t help but smile when he turned and saw the small figure in the candle-lit archway: “Yes?”

“Thank you!”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who wanted a different outcome for this quest; so, since the game is too cruel for that, here's my version. I've never felt so bad about someone dying in a game - except maybe Solaire.
> 
> I've thought about spinning this a little further; see what happens to these people when/if the night ends for example. If anyone wants to read that, let me know.


End file.
